Happy Birthday Snape or Phbbbt JKR
by Ms-Figg
Summary: Today is Snape's birthday. In celebration I have done a rewrite of his final moments in DH with a more palatable ending for those of us who continue to have a fascination with the snarky Potions master. Long live Severus Snape!


**A Birthday Present for Snape or Phbbbt JKR**

"I have a problem, Severus," said Voldemort softly.

"My Lord?" said Snape.

Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and precisely as a conductor's baton.

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

In the silence Harry imagined he could hear the snake hissing slightly as it coiled and uncoiled—or was it Voldemort's sibilant sigh lingering on the air?

"My—my lord?" said Snape blankly. "I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No," said Voldemort. "I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand. . . no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago."

Voldemort's tone was musing, calm, but Harry's scar had begun to throb and pulse: Pain was building in his forehead, and he could feel that controlled sense of fury building inside Voldemort.

"No difference," said Voldemort again.

Snape did not speak. Harry could not see his face. He wondered whether Snape sensed danger, was trying to find the right words to reassure his master. Voldemort started to move around the room: Harry lost sight of him for seconds as he prowled, speaking in that same measured voice, while the pain and fury mounted in Harry.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus. . . do you know why I have called you back from battle?"

And for a moment Harry saw Snape's profile. His eyes were fixed upon the coiling snake in its enchanted cage.

"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."

"You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I knew his weakness you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

"But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by someone other than yourself—"

"My instructions to the Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends—the more, the better—but do not kill him. "But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But—let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can—"

"I have told you, no!" said Voldemort, and Harry caught the glint of red in his eyes as he turned again, and the swishing of his cloak was like the slithering of a snake, and he felt Voldemort's impatience in his burning scar. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely—?"

"—but there is a question, Severus. There is."

Voldemort halted, and Harry could see him plainly again as he slid the Elder Wand through his white fingers, staring at Snape.

"Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"

"I—I cannot answer that, my Lord."

"Can't you?"

The stab of rage felt like a spike driven through Harry's head: he forced his own fist into his mouth to stop himself from crying out in pain. He closed his eyes, and suddenly he was Voldemort, looking into Snape's pale face.

"My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

"I—I have no explanation, my Lord."

Snape was not looking at Voldemort now. His dark eyes were still fixed upon the coiling serpent in its protective sphere.

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape's face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

"My Lord—let me go to the boy—"

"All this long night when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner. . . and I think I have the answer."

Snape did not speak.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

"My Lord—"

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

"My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand.

"It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: but then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air.

Snape spun about, facing the cage and Nagini as it encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue.

"_Kill."_

Desperately, Snape flung up his hand, catching the striking snake by the throat and struggling with the large creature, his wand in his other hand.

Harry watched as Snape wrestled with the familiar, squeezing the snake's neck with almost superhuman strength brought on by terror, Nagini's long body whipping about, the mouth gaping wide from strangulation, the terrible fangs dripping with venom as Nagini attempted to sink them deep into the wizard's pale throat. Snape managed to raise his wand.

"Sectumsempra!" the wizard cried, slashing downward.

Voldemort let out an unearthly scream as Nagini was decapitated, the magical cage dissipating as the dead serpent's headless body writhed and coiled.

"Oh shit!" Harry hissed as Snape turned to the Dark Lord.

The deception was over. Voldemort with his treachery had freed Snape forever. No more bowing, scraping and gesticulating for the Potions master. The game was over. After he gave Potter the information he needed, it was time to escape this madness once and for all. For the first time in his life, Snape met Voldemort's red eyes without deference, his hatred clearly visible. Voldemort appeared momentarily frozen by shock at the death of his familiar and destruction of his Horcrux.

"I know I am slated for Death, my Lord, but I've decided today is not a good day to die," he said with a nasty smirk, then whirled his wand over his head in a wide, exaggerated motion.

"Nocturnis Mortis!" Snape intoned and everything went blacker than blackest night.

"No! Snape! The Elder Wand!" Voldemort cried, firing blasts into the darkness as Snape ran toward the tunnel. He knew the Shrieking Shack well enough to navigate it through the dark.

"As far as I'm concerned you can stick that wand up your arse, my Lord!" Snape snarled back at the despot, pushing the box that covered the tunnel entrance back and dropping into the hole, right on top of Harry.

"Ow!" Harry cried as Snape leapt to his feet.

"Potter!" Snape hissed, his black eyes darting to Ron and Hermione who were training their wands on him.

"Accio wands!" Snape cried, disarming them, then cursed and pushed Harry forward.

"Gods damn it! Run!" the wizard cried as the Shrieking Shack lit up again.

"SNAPE!" Voldemort cried like a maniac, running over to the exposed tunnel and looking down at it. But he didn't enter. He didn't know what was waiting for him in the darkness. As powerful as Voldemort was, he was still a coward.

"Damn it. Well, I can still get Potter," he hissed, turning to look at his dead familiar, then exiting the Shrieking Shack in a temper.

"Hurry!" Snape hissed, pushing Harry as they all ran through the tunnel and climbed out of the hole beneath the roots of the Whomping Willow. The tree shuddered but couldn't whomp because it had been "turned off."

All four individuals stared at each other. Harry looked as if he were going to draw his wand as Ron and Hermione huddled behind him.

Snape looked down his nose at him.

"Don't do it, boy," he advised. "I have a message for you from Dumbledore. One that will help you defeat Voldemort. But . . . there is no time to tell you. So . . ."

Snape created a flask.

"A message from Dumbledore? But you killed Dumbledore!" Hermione said from behind Harry.

Snape's black eyes rested on the witch.

"I sent the doe Patronus to the Forest of Dean and placed Godric Gryffindor's sword in the pond for Potter to find. I hope that is specific enough information to at least suggest I'm on your side, Miss Granger. Now Potter, you take this and you sort it out. I don't have time for specifics," Snape growled.

Suddenly a silvery-blue fluid poured out of the wizard's eyes, nose, mouth and ears, magically siphoning into the flask in his pale hand.

"Ewwww!" Ron exclaimed, fascinated but horrified as Snape's face fairly vomited the stuff.

Snape capped the bottle and thrust it into Harry's hand, then grasped him roughly by the chin.

"Look at me!" Snape hissed.

For a moment, his black eyes locked with Harry's green ones, an odd expression washing over the dark wizard's pale face. Then he released the boy who lived, his scowl returning.

"I've done all I can do," he breathed, then threw Ron and Hermione their wands, cried, "Locomordres!" and soared up into the air, disappearing like a huge billowing bat into the night.

Voldemort's voice suddenly reverberated all around them. He would be heard clear to the castle, if not to Hogsmeade itself.

"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. "You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads frantically, looking at Harry.

"Don't listen to him," said Ron.

"It'll be all right," said Hermione wildly. "Let's—let's get back to the castle, if he's gone to the forest we'll need to think of a new plan—"

Together, the three students ran toward the castle, and Destiny.

Snape, soaring toward a safe location, the wind whipping his black, oily hair around his face and robes flapping as he put distance between himself and all things Voldemort said in a low voice, "Good luck, Mr. Potter. You're certainly going to need it."

THE END

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A/N: Happy Birthday, Severus Snape! May you live forever in our hearts and libidos. As you probably know, most of this one-shot is taken directly from "Deathly Hallows" verbatim just as JKR wrote it. The end is my part, but I felt I needed to recreate that heartbreaking scene up to that point. I remember my heart just sinking as I read it. But as you can see, the ending is much more palatable. SNAPE LIVES! At least to me. Thanks for reading all. 


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